Cracks
by An Interlude
Summary: Hermione isn't used to making mistakes. However, something is telling her that she has made a big one. And it's not her that's hurting the most. But with hurt comes healing, and with healing comes the acceptance of a new day and what it brings.
1. Prologue

She breathes quietly, evenly, in her sleep, and he could swear that there is a hint of sadness, a sigh of regret, in every breath she takes. He finds it so _Hermione_, that even in her sleep, there would be not a speck out of order, everything in its place of perfection.

But then she calls _his_ name, and his world is tumbling from underneath him. Her petite lips don't look right, shaped in that manner. He is used to the slants that create the sounds of his own name, but this particular name, he is used to calling with loathing.

Not in peace, and definitely not with a smile.

With a jolt, she moans in her sleep, and a tear trickles down her face. His heart clenches, and it is not at the fact that she is crying. But her voice conveys a longing and sadness; a want that he knows was never there for him. He can imagine the look on her face as she's calling, and it isn't one that he has ever seen directed at him.

Except once.

She shifts again, and he tenses. His eyes snap shut, and he lets himself drift back to that one moment.

_Hermione watches as Arthur Weasley leads his only girl and youngest child, down the aisle towards the love of her life. She watches as they gaze at each other, she, the princess, pauper and siren, and he, the prince, the frog, the hero. She feels a swelling of something indescribable in her chest, and she wishes for someone to look at her that way. _

_She turns to the man beside her, and she looks up with him, with a hope and longing that has manifested into actions, but moreover, her eyes. She gazes at him with seriousness, and an intense loving look. He smiles at her, and hopes that his crooked grin reassures her of how much he loves her._

He feels her shift once more, before the movements of stirring and sleepy wakefulness are felt. He squeezes his eyes shut tighter, hoping for a relapse into the past, an escape from the present, and hears her sigh.

She eases off the bed they share, and grabs her wand as she moves towards the door, shutting it with a firm push. He notes the click of the lock before the sounds of rushing water accompany the thoughts within his head. Since when was Hermione a stranger to him?

* * *

AN: Wow, it's been a while. This is a plot that's been spinning in my head for a while, do let me know what you think. Somehow, I feel as though my writing style has not changed since six years ago, but maybe my attention span has. Let's hope so.

Disclaimer: I don't own the universe of Harry Potter, nor the characters. This plot however, is mine.


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter One

* * *

"Granger," he inclined his head in greeting.

She ventured a small smile at him. "Hello Malfoy."

"Would you like to join me?"

"Sure. She slid into the seat he stood to offer, and looked for someone to take her order.

"The big breakfast is good if you're hungry," he suggested.

She shook her head. "No, every time I'm here, I get the same thing. Have you ordered yet?"

"No, I just got here and snatched a table."

A voice broke into their polite conversation. "Are you ready to order Mr. Malfoy, Ms. Granger?"

"I'll have the pancakes with maple syrup and bacon please."

Draco widened his eyes and snapped his mouth shut from the motion he was making to order his breakfast. "Granger, what in the… That is foul."

Hermione couldn't help but grin at him. "No actually, it's delicious. You should try it sometime. Here, we'll take two serves, and an extra strong flat white. Malfoy, what would you like to drink?"

"I'll take a extra strong cappuccino, and a big breakfast. I am not trying that awful sounding mixture you want to call sustenance."

"Trust me, it's good. We'll go with two helpings of the pancakes with bacon, my extra strong flat white, and an extra strong capp." With that, Hermione waved the waitress away, and noted her backward glances towards them.

Hermione couldn't blame her. Hermione was rarely seen in public with Malfoy, let alone in close, friendly proximity, despite the close working relationships their places of work had with each other. Occasionally, she would bump into him in the elevator, when she had to visit the Ministry, though usually it was to meet up or have lunch with Harry. He was always polite, asked how she was, and after a couple of times, she had grown tired of her defensiveness against him, and accepted the tentatively offered peace.

This was her first meal with him though.

He couldn't help but smirk at the furrowed brow that suggested her rapidly running thoughts, though the effect was somewhat marred by the half-arsed glower currently pasted over his face. "I wasn't aware we were on an ordering food for each other basis Granger."

"I wasn't aware we were on a dining together basis either."

"Technically, if you think about it, we spent a good six years dining amongst each other," he shot back, brows raised.

She waved this away. "That's just being petty now. You'll thank me later, this is pretty good stuff."

"So, what have you been up to?" he abruptly changed the topic.

Hermione looked surprised at the brisk change in conversation. "Uhh… Yeah. You know. Not too bad or anything. How about you?" she returned awkwardly.

Draco flashed her one of those insufferably content smirks that were permanently attached at least partially to his face. "How eloquent Granger. I've been not too bad myself. How goes the potion brewing? Got to thank you for that batch of Dreamless Sleeping you whipped up for us a couple of weeks ago, it would've been hell trying to deal with a couple of the long-term patients had we run out."

As their food arrived, their conversation slowed slightly, but it definitely didn't stop. Hermione watched as Draco prodded his food cautiously, before cutting a small strip of the pancake drizzled with maple syrup and spearing a sliver of bacon meticulously. He raised it to his mouth before chewing slowly, and she waited in anticipation for his reaction. A slow curl crept up on his lips, another almost smile mimicking their almost friendship.

"It's good right?"

His eyes shuttered again, as he gave a nonchalant wave. "Average, barely meets the benchmark really."

"Oh shut up, you know you love it."

With those words, they lapsed back into silence.

Hermione took a moment to reflect on how she had come to be in this situation, with Draco Malfoy, of all people.

...

_She was a person of habit. She didn't spread jam on her toast without a smear of butter first, and she stirred her coffee once clockwise before stirring seven times anti-clockwise, though she never took her coffee with sugar, nor did she deviate from her flat white. She got up in the morning promptly at six, and she took a shower after rolling straight out of bed into her slippers. She knew the angle at which she twisted her shower knob for the optimum temperature, and she rinsed her hair twice with shampoo, before using conditioner. _

_However, precisely three months and two days ago, she awoke at five-thirty in the morning, with the compulsion to run. _

_She pushed aside her brain's screaming to get back into bed, and crawled into a neglected pair of trainers in the corner of her closet, displaced amongst the heels and flats that she favoured every morning bar that day. She took it slow, stopping when she needed, and walking when she felt short of breath. She made it five blocks away before she realised she needed to get back, and she took in a big gulp of air and ran with all she had._

_It was exhilarating, and she wondered why she hadn't done it sooner._

_The running became a habit, and somehow, in the back of her mind, she wondered how Ron never heard her leave, never questioned the slamming of the front door that announced her return. It was as though he was resigned, didn't care, didn't want to know. She felt herself not caring either, preferring it that way._

_Her routine changed, she was getting up at five now, running further, less out of breath, coming back and leaving all before Ron was out of bed. It was still a habit to have her breakfast and coffee, but found herself drawn to the multitude of Muggle cafés that lined a street she had found four blocks from their flat during one of their walks. _

_The variety to her life became the adventure that was exploring niche bakeries and discovering hidden breakfast points. She made a point to revisit the places she liked, and to smile at the bakers who had been up for hours already as she ran past. _

_One in particular was her favourite, and while she had mentioned to Ginny of a nearby bakery that sold amazing pain au chocolat, she kept the cosy café she had labelled as her favourite. This was one place she didn't want to share with anyone._

...

How ironic, that in her quest for solace, she had met Malfoy.

Then again, as she mused, he painted quite the poised, solitary figure. As she watched him cut the bacon with that surgical precision he was renowned for, she mused at how he was able to project such a picture of loneliness, despite his fiancée, friends and family.

Perhaps it was that he never seemed to mention them. Perhaps it was the manner in which he walked in his life without any regard, as though there was nothing tying him down. Not the way one who was looking towards a marriage would, in any case. Perhaps it was the fact that it had been three years since he had given Astoria a ring, and yet there was no wedding in sight. The rumours were that she was cheating. There were rumours that it was arranged. And like many rumours, there may have been a hint of truth, but to this, Hermione was unaware.

Unbeknownst to Hermione, Draco had also been watching her as she contemplated him, eating her own pancakes. He was almost amused at how she managed to look so poised and dainty, while clearly eyeing him out of the corner of her eyes. It was nothing new, if not for the fact that Draco knew that Hermione had no interest of that sort in him, and that he caught a look on her face that he had not seen before on any other. It was one he was very familiar with, in fact.

A vibration of his wand broke the both of them out of their respective thoughts. "I'm being summoned, my apologies," he said to her as he places enough on the table to cover their food and drink.

Hermione covered her surprise at the fact that Malfoy actually has Muggle money, and attempts to protest. "No, I couldn't possibly – "

"Granger, I can't really argue with you on this one, St. Mungo's needs me, I'm on call. But this time, I pay, no arguments. We'll see about next time."

Before she can question him about next time, he's out the door, and Hermione found herself strangely excited by the prospect of next time.

* * *

AN: Rather short, but it reflects my attention span to a degree I'd say.

Disclaimer: As nothing has changed, I own nothing of Harry Potter or the characters of, which belong to J.K Rowling. I believe she is also known as Robert Galbraith. This plot however, is mine.


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

* * *

She felt like such a _nag_. There was just something about Ronald that incited this weary irritation in her, a fuel that fed a fire of anger, annoyance and more. "Seriously Ron, _what_ is your **problem?**" she snapped.

Ron looked at her with a wounded expression. "What are you talking about 'Mione? I just wanted to know what you were making for dinner."

"If you want to know so badly, why don't you cook it?"

"You know I'm not a cook."

"That surprises me, given how much you eat and how frequently you're thinking about the next meal."

"I don't need to cook when I have you."

Herein lay the crux of the problem. Ronald Weasley, at the age of twenty-seven, thought that he had everything in Hermione. If he didn't have clean clothes, he'd expect Hermione to do the laundry. If he didn't know what to do, he'd ask Hermione. If he felt bored, he'd bother Hermione. If he felt hungry, he'd expect her to cook. If she cooked enough to appease him, she'd be cooking all the time!

She had a job, one she loved. Slowly, she was growing apart from Ron, the one she thought she loved, and she was realising that she was getting sick of his dependence on her.

To be fair, it wasn't this moment that woke her to this realisation. It had been a slow build-up of frustration, where she stored every little resentment till they accumulated. She couldn't help but compare to other people she knew.

Times where Ron would pop into her work, expecting her to drop everything because he wanted McDonalds, and he couldn't be trusted to navigate the Muggle world alone. When he wanted to go to the Burrow, but she had long-standing appointments with other people, often her parents, and he would exasperatedly tell her that he had no interest in spending time with a couple he had nothing in common with but her.

A small voice in her head would say that that should be enough.

She should be enough.

...

"My turn to order."

It had become habit to meet every week for a peaceful brunch or breakfast, the regularity with which they met would have been considered unusual, if not for the fact that they had enjoyed themselves so much the first time around, it would've been silly not to do it as often as possible.

Draco often insisted on paying, though it was something that Hermione fought him on at every turn. They established rules.

That whomever arrived first would pay; Hermione laid down this rule the second time they met, when Draco's insisted he pay once more. She had arrived first, so she announced with a shake of her head that the first to arrive would be the first to pay. He had been so indignant with the new rule, she managed to slip the waitress her card before he could do or say anything Slytherin enough against this.

That whomever arrived first would do so at an acceptable timeframe to their arranged meeting time. Hermione also set this rule, when she came in late once and the waitress remarked that it was good she had finally come, for Draco had been waiting for over an hour and a half despite the set time they had agreed on. Again, there had been a bit of protest at this one, though he agreed quickly enough, probably because he was a busy man and he didn't have so much time on his hand to be showing up to appointments hours in advance.

That if whomever arrived first did not have the appropriate funds, or could not produce them within a reasonable timeframe (two minutes), they forfeited the right to pay. Draco had established this one, in a sneaky moment where Hermione had fumbled with her purse and it's contents in an effort to find her Muggle money. He had quashed her protests, and said, "You'll just have to be faster next time," with the slightly patronising tone that could only be pulled off by a Malfoy.

Upon reflection, he hadn't changed all that much. Or perhaps he had, really, in regards to her, but not much else. The thought of that possibility warmed her heart, and in return, she opened herself up to him, piece by piece, as gratitude that he had done the same for her.

...

Her life was full of routine. While there were moments where impulsive urges startled her, she settled these into her day-to-day activities quickly and moved as though they had always been in sync. This was possibly what allowed her to operate an independent, but highly successful potions laboratory that supplied to many large institutions, the Ministry and St. Mungo's amongst them, aside from the fact that she was Hermione Granger, brightest witch of her year.

She moved along the corridor quickly, thanking the fact that she was her own boss. In her private rooms, she threw off her heavy travelling robe before crossing the room to her desk and grabbing the list of potions that required her attention for the day.

One of her favourite parts of her office was the spacious workspace that allowed for an enormous wall of potions ingredients and reference material. She had large cauldrons set up ready to be used at any time, and often had brews going for her own research as well. She checked on a couple of these and made notes, before beginning her work day.

She breathed in the scent surrounding her, and sighed with happiness.

It smelt like magic.

...

Draco Malfoy worked in St. Mungo's, in a special role that had been created after the war. While he was on call, he dealt with emergency, with a specialisation in paediatrics, but he was also head of a forensics unit, which examined cases where there was medical information that needed to be processed. He was the youngest head of anything since the establishment of St. Mungo's, but when he was promoted, fresh out of Healer training with two years under his belt, all Lucius Malfoy had to say in regards to the matter was that Malfoys were the best at what they wanted to do, and followed up with, "At least your career will be out of the way by the time I hand over the company to you."

While, with a bit of reflection, most would admit to being a little hurt by the callousness of these words, Draco considered them a fair honour. Tempered by a light sentence in Azkaban, his father had not thawed into a loving man, and as was the case in his childhood, Lucius Malfoy's approval was a hard thing to garner. He had gotten over it a long time ago, and stopped caring soon after. He wouldn't bother to correct his father on the assumption that Draco would drop everything, namely a job he loved, for familial obligations.

In his office, he sat reviewing case files that had been submitted to him. He got three visits to his office before lunchtime.

The first of these was Auror Potter, saviour of the wizarding world. If he sounded bitter, he wasn't. He was a little amused, in fact. As Deputy-Head of the Auror Department, he coordinated frequently with Draco, and as a result, both men had come to respect one another, with a growing, albeit cautious, friendship. They did meet for drinks on an irregular basis, mainly with other people from work. The important part was really that they worked well together, which they did, and got the job done.

Potter, as he was still in the habit of calling him, had come by to drop by some paperwork for upcoming trials for him to go through. He stayed to chat briefly, also dropping an invitation to his place for dinner the next evening, which was surprising, but not unwelcome.

Second was Blaise Zabini, Draco's only remaining acquaintance from Slytherin back from his Hogwarts days, and consequently, his best friend. Who knows why Blaise was at St. Mungo's, because Draco didn't.

"Mate, are you going to the ball next month?"

He groaned. He had completely forgotten about the annual affair that the Ministry held in celebration of the end of the Second Wizarding War. Didn't want to remember it either. "Merlin, I have to go too this year, all the senior staff here are meant to attend."

Blaise scoffed at this. "You're kidding yourself if you thought there's ever been a year where you haven't had to go."

This was true. He was head of his family, and that meant social obligations. His father had handed over his title as head of the Malfoy family before his incarceration, and while it didn't require him to run the business, as a board had while Lucius was in Azkaban, it came with obligations to attend endless events that his mother planned or that his family was invited to, always requiring a date to accompany. It would be improper otherwise. He rolled his eyes upward in annoyance, and mentally started cataloguing who would be appropriate to approach.

"You could go stag," Blaise suggested with a smirk.

"Yeah, if I want to end up balls-less."

They both winced at that. "…No one wants that."

The third however, was unexpected. While occasionally he would bump into her at the Ministry as he was dropping off files, he was surprised that she even knew where his office was in the hospital. He was more so surprised that she was seeking him out.

While he and Hermione had been meeting for meals, they had never set foot inside the other's respective professional environments. Though his position meant that he made contact with many people, people rarely sought him out in his office due to the irregular hours he was there, and the fact that he didn't consult.

The knock was surprise one. His secretary was on lunch, Blaise had just left, and Potter really didn't like him enough to visit more than once in a day, especially when they were to be meeting for dinner the following evening.

Not waiting for a response was surprise two. The door swung open immediately after one knock, and he looked up to see who had breezed into his office.

She was surprise three.

Why was Hermione here?

...

She was so, incredibly angry. Ron had come in with that ridiculous puppy-dog look on his fact that he thought could fix everything and get him whatever he wanted. He had said that he was hungry.

Hermione wouldn't have been angry, if not for the fact that when she asked him to wait as she finished up the last of the batch for St. Mungo's, he had flown into a rage about how they never saw each other anymore, and that he was sick of waiting for her to be ready, and had stormed out.

She had taken deep breaths to calm herself, before finishing and corking the potions and deciding to deliver them to the hospital herself to cool down. She had dropped them off, before having a wander and remembering that Draco also worked there. She flagged down a nurse, and smiled politely at her, asking where she'd be able to find Malfoy.

She was actually rather impressed at all he had managed to achieve. If one were to have asked back at Hogwarts, she would never pegged Draco Malfoy as a healer. She had always pictured him at the Ministry, or at the head of the family business, or generally doing nothing. Looking back, she hadn't the best opinion of him.

Knocking on the door, she felt rather nervous, before berating herself for it. Why should she be nervous, when for all she knew, he would be doing rounds. He might not even be in the office, or out to lunch. So she pushed open the door, to see Draco on the other side, looking up at the disturbance with confusion.

"I thought you might like to have lunch," she spoke slowly, as if unsure of what to say.

There was a pause before he responded. "Well… This is unexpected."

* * *

AN: Yes, this is going pretty slow. But I don't want it to be one of those stories where everything happens at once and you're all WTF where did that come from. Aside from that, there are probably grammatical errors or what have you, but you know. It's been a bit of a wait, but classes have started again, so this whim's taken a bit of time to write.

Thank you to my one reviewer, **ushallneverknow**, it was very kind of you. I'm glad you enjoyed the last chapter, and I hope you enjoy this one too.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or the characters, I am borrowing a world that J.K. Rowling has created, and applying creative licence.


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